Magic Reincarnate
by hmmga
Summary: Voldemort succeeded that Halloween night. Harry Potter is dead, and the Old Religion has been thrown out of balance. Only one person can restore order, but he will need his three friends to help him. Four people are reborn, and together they must bring down Voldemort. But as dark forces tighten their grip on the wizarding world, is the damage too much, even for Emrys to fix?
1. Chapter 1

"_Stand aside you silly girl."_

_The red-headed woman stood firm before the cot, shielding the tiny boy from view. Voldemort snarled under his breath, he didn't have time for this. He flicked his wand and tossed her aside, pointing his wand at the Potter boy._

"_Avada kedavra!"_

_The toddler slumped over dead, and the woman screamed, a broken, heart-rending scream of pure agony. Voldemort turned to her, wand ready… but he decided against it. Her suffering would be greater if he spared her. Laughing coldly, he apparated away._

_Deep within the Department of Mystery, the glass ball of a prophecy exploded. The shards of glass scattered in every direction. Magic itself cried out that night. With the Potter boy's demise the balance of the old religion had been destroyed. In desperation, it sought to restore that balance._

_That night, four children were conceived, and the Wizarding world would never be the same again._

**Chapter 1**

_Eleven years and ten months later…_

The first of September was a beautiful day, but now the sun did little to dispel the chill that had settled in the bones of the wizarding world. Gwendoline Mason shivered as she passed through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. The platform was fairly empty, parents were ushering their children onto the train as quickly as possible, mindful of the death eaters that lurked in the shadows. Her father put his arm around her protectively, and quickly found her a compartment with some other children, a boy and a girl

"Are you first years too?"

They nodded silently, and Gwen's father loaded her trunk onto the train before kissing her gently on the forehead.

"I'll see you at Christmas," he told her. "_Be careful_."

She nodded, and he left just as the guard blew his whistle. The train pulled out of the station.

"I'm Gwen Mason," she whispered after a little well.

"I'm Arthur Brown," said the boy. He had blond hair and blue eyes. "And this is my cousin, Lavender."

"Nice to meet you."

They fell into an uneasy conversation, constantly overshadowed by the black cloaked figures that patrolled the corridors.

Further down the train, Morrigan Selwyn was sat opposite a pair of twins. They weren't identical, a boy and a girl, but they shared the same black hair, blue eyes, and skinny frames. The girl, Megan Jones seemed nice enough, but her brother Myrddin hadn't said a word since they came into the compartment.

It was a long journey to Hogwarts, and night had fallen when they finally pulled into Hogsmeade station. There were death eaters waiting on the platform there too, and they guided the children in an orderly fashion to the carriages. Morrigan thought wistfully of the tales her parents had told about travelling across the black lake in boats, but those times were long gone.

When they reached the school, the first years were separated from the throng, and led to a small chamber to wait to be sorted. They stood in silence, many were pale and shivering. Eventually they were led into an equally silent great hall, lining up before the sorting hat. A death eater stepped forwards, list in hand.

"Abbot, Hannah."

And so the sorting began. There was no song from the sorting hat, no applause for the students that were sorted.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Brown, Arthur."

Arthur started at the sound of his name, and walked calmly forwards. Morrigan watched as the hat fell over his eyes.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Soon it was the turn of the twins. Megan was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff, but the hat took a long time to decided with Myrddin.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Morrigan kept watching as the students were divided. A Neville Longbottom went to Gryffindor, a Gwendoline to Hufflepuff. Soon they would be reaching the S's…

"Selwyn, Morrigan."

The hat completely obscured her vision of the hall.

"Interesting," said the hat in her ear. "Very interesting. A bit of a rebellious streak, I see. You have pureblood parents… well who doesn't nowadays. There hasn't been a muggleborn in Hogwarts for a decade. You don't want to be in Slytherin like your parents… let me see… RAVENCLAW!"

The hat was taken off her head, and she went to join her new house-mates.

Over at the Slytherin table, Myrddin was already missing his sister. He could see Megan sat comfortably amongst the Hufflepuffs, and realised that over the last eleven years he had grown used to her presence. She had always been his mouth-piece, talking for both of them so that he could sit in the shadows and watch. Now he was on his own, and he knew that as soon as the sorting had finished he would have to speak for himself. He felt like he had been thrust into the limelight after spending centuries in the shadows.

And the worst bit was, he _had_ spent centuries in the shadows.

Life was a confusing concept for Myrddin. He had been born along with his twin sister of the 31st of June. They were premature, and had to spend some time in an incubator in St Mungos before their parents could take them home. He didn't remember any of that, thank the gods, but when he was six months old… he _remembered._ And then suddenly he had a whole other life in his head.

The last student was sorted, and the headmaster, Lucius Malfoy got to his feet. Myrddin could almost feel waves of smugness rolling off the blond boy next to him. He understood that he was the headmaster's son.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the man, dark mark prominent on his arm. "Let the feast begin."

Suddenly the plates were piled with food. It wasn't the grand feast his mother had described, or the perfectly cooked food from the house-elves from his memory. But it was warm and it was edible, so Myrddin began to eat with gusto.

"What was your name again?" asked the Malfoy boy. Myrddin gulped.

"Myrddin Jones," he whispered. Malfoy gave him an odd look, but turned away, apparently satisfied that he wasn't going to pose a threat to his own superiority within Slytherin house. If only he knew…

He was living a lie. Again. But this time there was no Gaius to turn to for comfort. No Kilgharrah to ask for advice. His new mother cared for him and he loved her dearly, but she was no Hunith. And as for his father… after watching Balinor die in his arms, he could barely look at the man who had raised him. Even after a thousand years, it still hurt.

A prefect was talking to them, telling them some rubbish about Slytherin superiority. He wondered vaguely what Salazar would say if he could see what his once-noble house had become. Slytherin house was once honoured throughout the magical world. Being sorted into Slytherin was akin to being accepted into the most prestigious institution in Britain. Since then dark wizards had tarnished its reputation, and it was now a hot-house for extremists, the power hungry, and pureblood fanatics.

Eventually, the food vanished from the plates, and Lucius Malfoy got to his feet to lecture them. Myrddin tuned him out, thinking again about his reincarnation. To say that it had been unexpected would be an understatement. Someone had thrown the balance of the Old Religion so off course, that he had been sat comfortably in his home one minute, and a toddler the next. There was some time in between (probably about fourteen months) when everything was a bit fuzzy but then…

Myrddin could only assume that even though his body was new, he was still immortal. There was no way a mortal child could cope with over twelve centuries of knowledge, or the power that came with it. He had had to be careful with his magic, trying not to reveal just how powerful he was. He had hated it. He fingered his wand in his pocket. He hated that too, the wooden stick obstructing his magic. He did not need such an instrument to perform spells.

Everyone stood up, and Myrddin realised the headmaster had finished talking. He got to his feet as well, obeying the instructions of the prefect to follow him to the common room. There was no need to tell them that he already knew every inch of the castle. He had helped build it, after all. The common room and dormitories hadn't changed much in the last thousand years, and that he was grateful for. At least some things stayed constant, despite the passage of time.

And with those thoughts, Myrddin Jones settled down to sleep, aware that around him, the castle was rejoicing in the return of its creator.

Merlin Ambrosius.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was several weeks before Myrddin was able to sneak away from the rest of the Slytherins. The death eaters ruled the school with an iron fist, and although the Slytherins had more freedom than the others, it was difficult to find any time alone. Eventually he was able to slip away to an abandoned corridor in the east wing of the castle, where there was a large empty canvas with a muddy brown background.

"Arthur!" he called. "Arthur? Are you there?"

There was a grumbling from beyond the edges of the painting. Myrddin rolled his eyes, and switched to old English.

"_Arthur! Get your royal ass in this picture!"_

Reluctantly, the likeness of Arthur Pendragon sidled into the frame, glaring down at the small boy who had disturbed him.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Don't you recognise me?" asked Myrddin. Arthur sighed.

"Why would I recognise a brat like you?"

"Look closer."

He did so, and his blue eyes widened in recognition.

"Is that… but…"

"Don't you _dare_ laugh," Myrddin warned him, but it was in vain. Arthur doubled over, clutching the edge of his painting for support. After a while he looked back up at Myrddin, and the laughter started all over again.

"This isn't funny!" complained Myrddin.

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin," chuckled Arthur, struggling to catch his breath. "This is the funnies thing that has happened in twelve-hundred years."

"It is _not_!"

"How long have you been stuck like that? I haven't seen hide nor hair of you for nigh on twelve years."

"You wouldn't," grumbled Myrddin. "I went and got myself reincarnated."

"What? How did you manage that?"

"It wasn't exactly my choice!"

"I see. So who are you now?"

"Myrddin Jones," he told him. "I'm eleven years old, have a twin sister, a mother, a father, and a hell of a lot of magic and memories…"

"So you remember everything?"

"Everything," agreed Myrddin. "And now I'm stuck in _school_, of all places."

"Perhaps you'll learn something for once," teased Arthur.

"I gave the sorting hat a bit of a fright, though," chuckled Myrddin. "I was there when he was created, and now I've turned up as a student…"

"Which house did he put you in?"

"Slytherin, of course. I was Salazar's first original pupil after all, even if there was very little he could teach me."

"I seem to remember you taught him more than he taught you."

"Exactly."

"And there's no question of you being cunning from the number of years that you lied to _me_…"

"Yes, well…"

"So what's Hogwarts like now?"

Myrddin's face fell, and for a moment he didn't answer.

"Merlin?"

"Hogwarts has… changed," he said sadly. "Voldemort has taken over completely, and the school has dark magic at its core. It's… it's horrible, Arthur. I never dreamed Hogwarts would fall."

"Everything falls in time."

"But not Hogwarts, Arthur. This was never meant to happen. I think that's why I'm here. I have to put things right."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"There's only one option. I have to kill Voldemort. Destroy the darkness from its root."

"As a kid?"

"I don't see why not."

"You said it yourself, _Merlin_, you're stuck in school. You probably won't even _see_ Voldemort, let alone take a shot at him."

"I can go and find him."

"If you can escape from this place. Merlin, I've been wandering around this school for centuries. I know what's going on here."

"They make people practice the Cruciatus curse on people who've earned detentions," whispered Myrddin. "They chain students up, they beat them… Arthur, they kill muggleborns! As soon as they get their letter, they and their families are killed! It's barbaric!"

"I know," said Arthur solemnly. "But I think you will have to wait. Have you tried any magic in that body?"

"Of course!"

"I don't mean your usual parlour tricks, what about the powerful stuff?"

"Well…" he said awkwardly, and Arthur nodded in understanding.

"Your new body may be immortal like the old one, but it is too young. It cannot take the power."

"I know," muttered Merlin. "I've been practising, it's infuriating. It's like… do you remember that time you broke your leg? It took months to heal properly, and then you had to relearn how to walk?"

"You never let me forget it."

"Yes, well, it's like that. I know _how_ to do it, but physically I'm learning all over again."

"It must be tough."

"Incredibly. And my wand doesn't work properly for me."

"You don't _need_ a wand."

"I know that, but it helps to keep up appearances."

A sound echoed down the corridor and Myrddin jumped.

"I've got to go," he said. "This area of the castle's out of bounds. If they catch me…"

"Go," Arthur encouraged him. "Have you mastered cloaking spells yet?"

"I'm working on it."

"Run. I'll see you soon."

He nodded, turned tail and fled.

Gwendoline was on her way to lunch with Hannah and Susan, discussing the latest charms essay. Suddenly a door burst open, and a black-haired boy barrelled through their little group, sending them flying.

"Watch where you're going!" reprimanded Susan, and then she gasped as he stood up to reveal Slytherin robes. She backed away, many students had been punished for 'disrespect' to the Slytherins.

"My apologies," said the boy, bowing slightly to them. "My fault."

He scurried away down the corridor, leaving the three girls staring after him.

"Was that…" began Gwen. "A nice Slytherin?"

"I have no idea," said Hannah. "That boy's in our year, isn't he?"

"Yes," said Susan. "His name's Myrddin. He's Megan's brother."

"Really?" asked Gwen.

"Megan Jones has a brother in _Slytherin_?" asked Hannah. Susan shrugged.

"They can't _all_ be bad."

"Speak for yourself," said Hannah in a low voice as they passed a group of Slytherins terrorising some other students. "That Malfoy character's a real rotten egg, and it's made even worse that his father's the headmaster…"

"Shh!" hissed Gwen. "Someone will hear you! You remember what Professor Sprout said!"

They hurried to their seats at the Hufflepuff table quickly, helping themselves to lunch.

Across the hall, Arthur watched them. He had sat behind them in herbology, and couldn't help staring.

He had the strangest feeling he had seen Gwendoline Mason somewhere before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everybody. Just realised I made an abysmal error in my adding up, and put Myrddin, Arthur, Gwendoline and Morrigan in the same year that Harry Potter would have been in. They should really have been in the year below Ginny, but I'm not going to correct that now as it would screw up the whole story.**

**Chapter 3**

Morrigan settled in quickly, despite the ever-present fear. She did well in her classes, made some good friends, and was able to write relatively cheerful letters to her parents. Not that she would dare to do anything else, she knew as well as anybody that all post was searched, and all letters were opened and read.

Beneath the Slytherins, Ravenclaw was the most respected house in the school. They were mostly neutral, people who wanted no part in the conflict of the wizarding world. Occasionally they were forced to choose sides, but on the whole they remained impartial. For that they were not worshipped like the Slytherins, but they were not terrorised like the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

To tell the truth, almost every Ravenclaw was anti-Voldemort, they were just better at hiding it. A lot of the time they wondered if Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs lacked basic intelligence. Their attempts at uprisings that occurred at regular intervals were always put down quickly, and still they persisted, stubbornly refusing to change tactics. Morrigan, like the rest of the Ravenclaws, knew that open protest was never going to work. The only way they could resist the death eaters within the school was by hiding in the shadows.

But they had the school in such a tight grip, there were no shadows left to hide in. The death eaters had no qualms about using terror tactics on the students. A beating here, a threat of torture there…

Time moved slowly at Hogwarts. But eventually the Christmas holidays had arrived, and Morrigan was sat in a compartment with her fellow Ravenclaws, trading holiday plans. All of a sudden there was an almighty clattering noise, and the door was thrown open. Two Gryffindor first years tumbled in, slamming the door quickly behind them.

"Sorry," whispered the blond one. "We're trying to avoid the Carrows."

The Ravenclaws nodded, and moved up to make room. The two first years, that Morrigan recognised as Brown and Weasley, sat down hurriedly. They were both trembling slightly.

"Are you alright?" asked Morrigan.

"We're fine," said Weasley. "They didn't see us."

In the next compartment, Myrddin was also hiding, but from his fellow Slytherins. He sat silently with his sister and her friends. They regarded him warily, but seemed to accept him. Obviously Megan had talked to them. At the moment, he was leaning back pretending to be asleep. It was easier that way.

"Do you ever worry about him?" asked Gwen in a hushed voice. "Slytherins aren't the nicest people."

"All the time," admitted Megan, and with a jolt Myrddin realised they were talking about him. "I'm not worried about bullying or anything, Slytherins look after their own, but if they influence him into, you know…"

"Joining _Him_," murmured Susan. "Most of the older students have the dark mark on their arm."

Myrddin shivered, and they stopped talking, abruptly changing the subject. The girls were almost right. _All_ of the older Slytherins had the dark mark on their arm. They were forced to take the mark as soon as they turned sixteen. They had no choice in the matter. He was terrified that one day, that would be him kneeling at the Dark Lord's feet, and there was nothing he could do about it. He only hoped his magic grew quickly.

Hogwarts was a strange experience for Myrddin. As it had been thousands of years ago, his child-hood body was small and scrawny. He was in no way intimidating. Until he donned the Slytherin robes.

Now seventh years ducked out of his way, terrified. The older Slytherins looked out for him, and taught him their beliefs of blood purity and supremacy. Even when he had been Camelot's court sorcerer he had never invoked _fear_ wherever he walked. People respected him, sure, but the citizens were never frightened of him. To be fair, he had scared off a lot of sorcerers that wanted to kill Arthur, but he had never terrorised innocents…

Now even his sister looked at him with big frightened eyes. When he got home he found his 'parents' skittish around him, fearful that if they did something wrong he would report them. As he boarded the train back to school, he decided that that was the last holiday he was going to go home, and wondered if one of the Slytherins would be able to take him in for the summer.

He had no idea what was to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please review!**

**Chapter 4**

Arthur was running.

He pelted up the marble staircase, taking three steps at a time, ducking behind a tapestry into a passageway well known to Gryffindors. Unfortunately, Alecto Carrow was no stranger to it either. He shot out into another main corridor to find his path to the common room blocked. He muttered a word that would make his mother frown, and sprinted in the opposite direction, ducking and weaving on a random path, hoping to shake them off…

He barrelled into something hard, and fell to the floor, groaning. He looked up to see Morrigan Selwyn staring at him, and then panicked when he heard voices and footsteps. She pulled him to his feet quickly and dragged him along behind her.

"Come with me!" she hissed. "Hurry up!"

They rounded another corner, and Arthur realised they were passing the library. A first-year Slytherin stepped out in front of them, and Arthur saw his blue eyes widen at the sight of the fugitives. The footsteps were coming nearer, and the strange boy pushed them into an alcove, pulling a tapestry across to hide them. At least Arthur assumed it was him, he never saw the boy touch the tapestry, but could have sworn for a moment the blue irises flashed gold.

"You, boy!" yelled Alecto. "What was your name… Myrddin! Did you see a Gryffindor kid pass this way?"

"Yes," came Myrddin's soft voice, and Arthur stiffened. He was betraying them. "He went through the library."

"Alright, fellas!" called Alecto. "This way!"

They heard the band of Slytherins run past them, into the library. Then the tapestry was being pulled back again, and Myrddin was beckoning for them to come out.

"Quickly, this way."

The three first years ran down the corridor. Morrigan seemed to recognise the path they were taking, and they skidded to a stop before an oak door with an eagle knocker. Myrddin stepped forwards and rapped it sharply. A gentle voice said:

"What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?"

"A river," answered Myrddin, and the door swung open to allow them access. They tumbled into the Ravenclaw common room, and the whole house fell silent. Morrigan turned to Arthur.

"We really need to stop meeting like this."

"I agree," he said, rubbing his chest. "But the Carrows really seem to have it in for me."

"They have it in for everybody," complained Morgana.

"No, it's more than that," said Myrddin, who was lounging against the door. "I've seen their tempers first hand, but with you… I've heard them talking, they only have to look at you before they're out for your blood."

"Well that's just great," sighed Arthur.

"There's something about you," continued Myrddin. "I… I can't put my finger on it. But neither can they, and it's driving them mad. What's your name again?"

"Arthur," he told him, and to his surprise Myrddin laughed.

"Of course," he grinned. "Figures."

"Shut up…" said Arthur, wrestling for an insult. "Dollop-head."

The smile slid off Myrddin's face like water off a duck's back, and he looked confused.

"Excuse me," spoke up one of the Ravenclaws, a tall seventh year. He got to his feet. "What are _they _doing in our common room?"

"Arthur was being chased by the Carrows," explained Morrigan. "He'll need a place to stay tonight."

She turned Myrddin.

"Why did you lie for us?"

"What do you mean?"

"You could have handed us over to the Carrows."

"Why would I do that?"

Many Ravenclaws gasped at his answer.

"But you're a Slytherin," said a girl. Myrddin sighed, checking his watch.

"Yes, I am aware of the fact. Look, I have to go. It will be suspicious if I get back after curfew."

He turned to leave, but Arthur called out.

"Myrddin… thank you."

He bowed his head in a gesture that seemed very familiar, and swept out.

"He's a strange kid, that one,"said a boy.

Myrddin heard the Ravenclaw's comment, and bit back a laugh. He walked quickly, occasionally ducking out of sight to avoid various people. He had no intention of returning to the common room just yet. Soon he was stood in front of a familiar portrait.

"Arthur?"

The blond-haired man sidled into the frame, looking so much like the Gryffindor boy Myrddin wondered how he had missed it before.

"Hello Merlin, everything alright?"

"Yes," he said. "Everything's fine."

"What is it, Merlin? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," he said, looking up into Arthur's eyes. "That I'm not the only one who's been reincarnated."

"What?"

"There's a boy in Gryffindor, named Arthur, who looks just like you…"

Wait a moment," said Arthur, holding up his hands. "Merlin, are you saying there's another version of me running around?"

"I think so," said Myrddin. "But I don't think he's aware of it…"

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," said Myrddin. He could still see Arthur looking sceptical. "Arthur, he called me a dollop-head."

Arthur's eyes widened at the sound of the old insult. "But that doesn't necessarily mean…"

"I know, Arthur," said Myrddin tiredly. "It's just this feeling I have."

"May the gods have mercy," groaned Arthur. "Not your 'feelings' again. They never led to anything good."

"They might have done if you'd ever listened to me…"

"Shut up."

"Yes, Sire."

"You should go, Merlin. It must be past curfew by now."

Myrddin shrugged. "Since when have I ever cared about that?"

"I… I worry about you, Merlin. When you're like this, you can't exactly stand up for yourself. I don't want you to get caught."

"I _never_ get caught, remember?"

"Just go!"

"Alright, alright," he grumbled. "Clot-pole."

He left anyway, making his way swiftly down into the dungeons. He slipped into the common room just as the gong was sounded for curfew, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright Slytherins!" called a voice, and everybody froze as Amycus Carrow stepped into view. Myrddin froze in terror. He'd forgotten it was Friday, when the Slytherins had their 'lessons'.

"Listen up!" continued the death eater. "Today, I'm going to introduce you to a little friend of ours…"

Several girls screamed as he produced an enormous snake. Many of the boys made appreciative sounds, and moved for a closer look. Myrddin relaxed. It looked like they wouldn't be practising curses tonight.

"Come closer, come closer," said Amycus enthusiastically. "She won't hurt you, she isn't venomous."

Myrddin edged forwards with the others, and the snake hissed uncomfortably. She looked up, and her eyes met Myrddins.

"_Help me,"_ she hissed. "_They are too close."_

"You might want to step back," cautioned Myrddin. "You're crowding her."

"Watch yer mouth, firstie!"

They all leapt back as the snake lunged forwards, sliding across the ground, up and around Myrddin's shoulders. She hissed angrily at them.

"_It's alright," _he told her. "_I won't let them come near you."_

Amycus was stood stock still, a reverent look on his face. Suddenly he bowed, and the rest of the Slytherins followed suit.

"We recognise Myrddin Jones," he announced. "Parseltongue."

He eyed the boy for several minutes before speaking again.

"I think the Dark Lord will have something to say about this."


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so I don't normally update my stories this frequently, but this one is writing itself… I'm sure many of you budding writers sympathise with me about a story that gets out of control!**

**Chapter 5**

The next day he was taken out of Hogwarts.

"Where are we going?" he asked innocently as Alecto led him through the great hall. She grunted in response, taking his hand and pulling him faster. Her eyes fell over Arthur at the Gryffindor table, and Myrddin felt a spike of panic as her face went cold

"Where are we going?" he asked again, and she turned her attention to him.

"Enough with the questions," she snarled. "You're lucky that _He_ wants you unharmed."

Myrddin began to tremble. He had a good idea of who 'He' was.

"W-why does he want _me_?"

"Surely even _you_ can't be that dense," Alecto chuckled darkly. She marched him down the front steps, and they set off towards the gates. "Stop quivering like a frightened rabbit."

Myrddin tried to control himself, but he was in the body of a child, and couldn't help reacting the way his eleven-year-old self would. He hadn't felt so scared since the first time Arthur had seen him cast a spell…

Before he knew it they were walking through the gates.

"Take a deep breath," Alecto advised him, and he obeyed.

Wizarding apparition was very different to the teleportation he had used as a warlock, and he swayed slightly as they landed. Resisting the urge to be sick, he looked up at the imposing manor house. They were just outside a pair of wrought-iron gates. To the left there was a sign that read: Malfoy Manor.

No wonder Draco Malfoy was looked to as the leader of the Slytherins. He may be a first year, but he had the Dark Lord living in his house.

Alecto gripped his hand even more tightly, and raised her wand in the air. Myrddin could feel the gate before them shifting to let them through, reacting to the dark mark on Alecto's arm.

As soon as they passed through the gate, Myrddin gasped as dark magic engulfed him. He fell to his knees, coughing and choking like he'd just walked into a smoky room.

"Get up," snapped Alecto. Myrddin tried, but he just collapsed back down onto the ground. The dark magic was attacking him, and his own magic was fighting right back. He retched, bringing up what little breakfast he'd managed to eat, and struggled to hold onto consciousness. He felt someone scoop him up and start running. As they got closer to the manor the concentration of dark magic grew, and everything turned to black.

Slowly consciousness returned. He could still feel the weight of the magic pressing on his skin, it was kept at bay. His magic was protecting him, just like always. There was a cold cloth on his forehead, and he shivered. Then suddenly there were hands on his face, and a woman's voice.

"I think he's coming round."

Myrddin cracked his eyes open, to see a blond woman who could only be Draco Malfoy's mother. She gasped and stepped away from him.

"Alecto!" she called. "Come and see!"

Alecto Carrow hurried into his line of sight.

"Is 'e alright? The Dark Lord will 'ave my head if he's…"she froze, staring at him. "Merlin's beard."

Myrddin flinched. He _hated_ it when people said that. In all of his twelve-hundred years he had _never_ grown a beard.

"His eyes," continued Alecto. "They're gold."

He groaned, letting his eyelids slide shut again. His magic was working overtime to protect him. Of _course_ that would have visible side-effects. He reached within himself, testing the barrier his magic had created. There was no way of withdrawing it, the blackness would engulf him. He opened his eyes again. If he just pretended to be clueless, he might get away with it. That had always worked in Camelot.

"Professor Carrow?" he asked weakly. "Is that you?"

"It's me, sonny," she said encouragingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he whispered. "Where am I?"

"You're in Malfoy Manor," said Mrs Malfoy. She looked over to Alecto. "The Dark Lord wanted to see him as soon as he was awake. Can you walk?"

"I'll try."

He got to his feet a little unsteadily. It was centuries since he had suffered such a reaction to dark magic. When he was certain that he wasn't going to fall over again he took a few tentative step forwards, and smiled at the woman. Mrs Malfoy nodded.

"Come with me," she said, and turned away. Myrddin trotted after her, down the stairs and through a large set of double doors. He stopped at the threshold.

In the centre of the room stood Lord Voldemort, surrounded by his closest followers.

"Narcissa," said a high, cold voice. "At last. You have brought the boy?"

"I have, my lord," she answered. "This is Myrddin Jones."

She stepped aside, allowing Myrddin to properly see Voldemort for the first time. He was white-skinned, with red, snakelike eyes. His nose was diminished, with two slits instead of nostrils, and he was completely bald.

But above all, he was _wrong_, and Myrddin realised just why the Old Religion had pulled him from his limbo state of non-interference. Voldemort had dabbled with powers he did not understand, and it was his dark presence that had caused his magic to react in such a way.

"What is happening to his eyes?" asked Voldemort.

"We do not know," said Narcissa. "They were like that when he woke up."

"Child," said Voldemort, taking a few steps forwards. "Why are your eyes glowing?"

"What?" frowned Myrddin.

"Are you not aware that they are gold?"

"But…" he said uncertainly. "My eyes are blue."

He hissed, and recoiled as he felt a force pressing against his mind. He held his shields firm, but clutched his head.

"Why do you want to break into my mind?" he wailed. "Stop it!"

The attack stopped.

"Such power," remarked Voldemort. "Subconscious too. I can see why Amycus brought him to my attention. Child, how old are you?"

"I'm eleven."

"And how is it you speak Parseltongue?"

"What?"

Voldemort's eyes flashed angrily, and Myrddin knew he could not feign ignorance in this matter. So much for not drawing attention to himself. But then it was hard to pretend to be an innocent child when your eyes were glowing gold.

"You heard me," said Voldemort slowly. "How is it you speak the language of snakes?"

He decided to take the Kilgharrah approach.

"It is not so different from the language of dragons," he answered cryptically. Voldemort did a double-take.

"The language of dragons?"

"The tongue is bound with the essence of the soul, and it is that which it answers to."

_You see, Kilgharrah? _He thought. _I did listen to you sometimes._

"What are you saying?" asked Voldemort. Myrddin tilted his head, considering him.

"Tell me, if the tongue is bound to the soul, what happens when the soul begins to crack?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do. For the soul is like a china bowl, and it's purpose is as such. It holds our knowledge, our experience, our courage and our fears."

"Stop it."

"If you break the bowl in two, you may still be able to gather the pieces well enough to make a whole. But each fracture creates more splinters, and the pieces are harder to catch before they drift away."

"Stop talking! Silencio!"

"But when the bowl is broken too many times, even when if it is fixed there will be holes. And with holes come leaks…"

Voldemort turned his wand on Myrddin again.

"Crucio!"

Nothing happened, and Myrddin nodded in satisfaction.

"You see," he said. "You do know what I'm talking about."

He caught the eye of a great snake, that was hovering around his ankles, and spoke next in Parseltongue.

"_You would do well to heed my warning, for the time in which you will fall has already been foretold in the prophecies."_

He turned and walked away, unwilling to witness the uproar he would undoubtedly leave.

_Eat your heart out, Kilgharrah,_ he thought. _Taunting dark wizards is much more fun than teasing young boys._

There was no need for Voldemort to know that the only prophecy made about him was now null and void. It should keep him occupied for a time.

He loitered in the entrance hall. Of course if he wanted to, he could transport himself back to Hogwarts, but that might just give away how powerful he actually was.

"Myrddin," said Narcissa. "The Dark Lord would like to speak to you. Alone."

"I'm sure he would," muttered Myrddin, but he had no choice. He followed Narcissa back to the meeting room.

"Ah, Myrddin," said Voldemort smoothly. "Welcome back."

The door shut behind him, and it was just the two of them.

"I ask you again," said Voldemort. "Why are your eyes glowing gold?"

Myrddin shrugged. "Some magic touches the depths of the soul. The eyes are merely the windows."

Voldemort breathed out heavily, obviously trying to keep ahold of his temper.

"Are you always this cryptic?"

"I try. But I believe you wanted to discuss something with me."

"Yes," he said, with the air of Uther settling back in his throne. "There is."

He studied the boy for a moment before speaking again.

"I wish to make you my ward."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Morrigan gasped as she woke, sitting bolt upright. She stared around wildly for a moment, before recognising the room as her dormitory.

"Morrigan?" asked Padma, pulling the blue curtains back a little. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, quickly calming down, and swung her legs over the side of her bed to get ready for the day. As she dressed she couldn't help thinking about the dream. It had been so vivid…

She had been in the great hall. There were two indistinguishable figures on either side of her as she knelt at the feet of the Dark Lord. His cold laugh echoed over the hall as he relished in his triumph over her, and she shivered. Even as a memory it was terrifying. By the side of Lord Voldemort had stood a boy. He stood tall and calm, the dutiful ward, but his eyes betrayed his fear as silver snakes climbed his robes…

She quickly turned her attention back to her own robes as she struggled to keep her breathing steady. It had all seemed so _real_.

"Are you coming?"

She smiled at Padma, grabbing her bag.

"Just a moment. What lessons do we have this morning?"

"Charms and potions, but don't forget that we have herbology straight after lunch, so we may not have time to come back."

"Of course, thank you."

She packed what she needed, and accompanied her friend down to breakfast. As they neared the great hall she could have sworn she saw somebody running in the opposite direction, leaving a trail of silver in his wake.

Arthur Pendragon spent a lot of his time asleep.

To be fair, there wasn't much else for a portrait to do, especially since Merlin had been reincarnated, and subsequently absent from his usual place of resident. Now Arthur generally stayed in his Hogwarts painting, in the hope that Merlin would pass by. His corridor was generally deserted, and he rather enjoyed the quiet.

One afternoon, he woke, and his corridor was devoid of its usual silence. Instead it was filled with raspy breathing, and stifled sobs. He looked out of his picture…

"Merlin? Is that you?"

The boy was a state. He was huddled pitifully against the wall opposite him, shaking. His eyes were red and puffy, and there were tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked up at Arthur, trying and failing to wipe away the moisture on his face.

"Merlin, what happened?"

"They discovered I could speak to snakes," he whispered. "And then they took me to Voldemort."

Arthur gasped.

"They were going to kill you?"

"No," whispered Myrddin, sobbing harder. "He… he made me his ward. I'm Myrddin Riddle now."

Arthur gaped at him, trying to take it in. A dark wizard had made Myrddin, _Merlin _his ward.

"He adopted you?" he gasped.

"More or less," he sobbed.

"But… why?"

"I'm powerful," admitted Myrddin. "And at the manor there was no way to hide it. The dark magic around him… my magic protected me, but they could see it in my eyes, you know how they glow gold."

"Yes, it's terrifying."

"I tried to play the idiot, like I did in Camelot, but that didn't work."

"Who says you were 'playing' the idiot? In Camelot your eyes weren't constantly glowing."

"No, but I managed to confuse him. Took a leaf out of the dragon's book. He… he got a bit cross about that, tried to torture me, but of course nothing happened. He was a bit cross about that too."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Like I said, he tried."

"Merlin, what did he do to you? You wouldn't have agreed unless…"

"He threatened my sister," he whispered. "If I didn't agree to the adoption, she would die."

"I'm sorry."

Myrddin nodded, straightening up to show Arthur the silver edges that had been embroidered onto his robes.

"Nobody outside of Slytherin knows what it means, but… it singles me out as their leader. Draco Malfoy was furious, you should have seen his face. He tried to mark me, like the death eaters, but it didn't work. Then he tried to do the blood adoption ritual, but I couldn't let him do that. One drop of _my _blood… it doesn't bear thinking about. So it's down on paper, and I've got to wear _this_."

Arthur nodded sympathetically.

"To be fair, Merlin, it isn't as bad as the things I made you wear in your time as Court Warlock."

"Robes and pointy hats," grumbled Myrddin. "Did you know that it stuck? A thousand years later and they _still_ wear that stuff. If I knew I was going to be such a fashion icon, I would have been more careful what I let you stick me in."

"Well at least they didn't take inspiration from your ridiculous neckerchiefs."

Myrddin shrugged, and tucked his knees up under his chin, looking all of five years old.

"I liked my neckerchiefs," he mumbled. "They came in handy, if you'll remember."

"As cleaning rags. They made very good floor polishers."

"Shut up."

Myrddin rubbed his eyes again, getting to his feet.

"I have to go," he said mournfully. "They will get suspicious if I am missing for too long, everybody's watching me now. It's like being a prince, how the hell did you cope all those years"

"I was used to it."

"They _bow_ to me, Arthur. In full view of everybody! I hate it!"

"You never minded it when those druids showed you respect."

"That was different, I didn't hate their guts… gods, I need to talk to Megan."

And before Arthur could say another word he had sprinted away down the corridor.

Megan jumped as somebody grabbed her from behind, clapping a hand over her mouth so she couldn't cry out.

"Calm down!" whispered a familiar voice. "It's me!"

She turned slowly to face her brother. The black and silver robes sat oddly upon his frame, making him seem even paler than usual.

"Myrddin?"

He shivered and pulled her deep into the shadows, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

"Myrddin, what happened to you?" she whispered. "You disappeared, and now you're back, and…"

"I know!" he whispered back. "I'm sorry! It was, well, it's the Dark Lord. He _knows_."

She gasped. "Did he…"

"He didn't mark me," said Myrddin. "But he… I won't be coming home this summer, Meg. Or next summer. I'm sorry, but he threatened you."

"Me? Why did he threaten you? What about saving your own skin?"

"You know me better than that, Meg," he sighed. "Could you let our parents know that I'm sorry, and that I will do everything in my power to keep them safe."

She gave him a searching look, before nodding and moving away. Myrddin walked on with a sigh, but this time it was his turn to be yanked out of sight. He found himself facing a frantic looking Morrigan. At such close quarters he thought he recognised her, but no… it couldn't be…

"What has happened to you?" she hissed. "The Slytherins were _bowing _to you!"

He groaned internally. He knew people would notice.

"Events that were outside of my control," he said in a cool voice. "Now if you don't mind I will be going to dinner."

He made to walk past her, but stopped briefly to whisper in her ear.

"The Atkins girl is being held in dungeon four. She would probably appreciate a stay in Ravenclaw tower tonight."

"Why are you still helping us?" she hissed back. "If you're 'King of the Slytherins'… what will your new _subjects _think?"

He looked hard at her before answering, speaking the words wistfully as though they were a cherished memory from many years ago.

"Sometimes you have to do what you think is right," he told her. "And damn the consequences."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Morrigan collapsed back into the alcove, his words ringing through her mind…

_Do what you think is right…_

And as Morgana Pendragon adjusted to her new body, she thought about the black-haired, blue eyed boy.

_Well, Emrys, _she thought. _Here we are again, on opposite sides of a war. Except this time, it's you who's on the wrong side…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the enthusiastic reviews, I'm thrilled this idea has been so well received!**

**There's a time skip in this chapter, as nothing interesting was going to happen whilst they were still kids. The narrative picks up at the beginning of their fifth year.**

**Chapter 7**

_Four years later…_

It was September again, and the usual gloom had settled over the student body. Arthur walked down the train, searching for his girlfriend, Susan Bones. He ducked into a compartment to avoid a Slytherin, nodding absentmindedly to the terrified first years who occupied it. The Slytherin who walked past had silver edges to his robes, and Arthur felt his blood go cold. Myrddin Riddle.

The boy was a mystery. There were many rumours about him, and they often conflicted each other. Some people said that he was the Dark Lord's son, while others claimed that he was merely his ally. What _was _clear, was that the Slytherins looked to him as their leader. They would bow when they saw him, and spoke to him respectfully, even reverently. On the outside, Myrddin Riddle was the perfect cold-hearted, cruel heir to the Dark Throne. But then again…

Arthur remembered him when he was Myrddin Jones, the brother of a Hufflepuff. The strange little boy who was coerced into the Dark Lord's service simply by being a Slytherin, and yet would risk his own skin to save others. Arthur did not doubt that the boy had saved his life at least once, if not several times over the years. There was no conclusive evidence beyond the first occasion, but still there were rumours. The rumours were quickly stifled. One speculation that Myrddin was working against Lord Voldemort could easily turn into a death sentence for the speculator. So the rumours never got past whispers in the dormitories, and the odd look between a group of friends when another was saved from the Carrows grasp.

Slytherin house had changed under Myrddin's leadership. The difference was subtle, but tangible, and if you looked _really_ closely it was almost obvious. The older Slytherins who had relished in the Carrows brutality were slowly being phased out, and sometimes it felt like most of Slytherin was helping them behind the death eater's backs.

But it still didn't hurt to be careful.

He nodded again to the first years and carried on his way, slipping into the compartment with his friends with relief.

Gwen looked up as Arthur entered, smiling at Susan and sitting down next to her. He gave the red-head a quick kiss on the cheek that set the other girls giggling. The boys just rolled their eyes, and kept talking about Quidditch. Gwen smiled at Morrigan opposite, and she returned the smirk, turning the page of her potions textbook.

"Did you have a good summer, Gwen?" asked the dark haired girl.

"It was alright," she replied. "Better than most peoples, anyway."

Morrigan nodded seriously. In August there had been a purge of the magical world. Anybody who was not thought to be loyal to the Dark Lord had been 'removed' from society. A lot of people had lost somebody close to them.

As usual the journey was long and quiet. Gwen was amazed that they still allowed the students to take the train to school. So many of the old traditions had been done away with. The prefect system, the Quidditch cup, house points…

Along the corridor, Myrddin finally found an empty compartment. He had been sat with some Slytherins, but they had been giving him a headache. So he left in search of some peace and quiet.

He settled down in his new seat, and brought out the book the Dark Lord had instructed him to read over the course of the term. It was a book on advanced potions, well past OWL level, and he was pleasantly surprised that even as Merlin he had never read it before. When he opened the first pages, his mouth dropped open.

"Gaius," he whispered. "Of course."

At least half of the book was taken up by copies of Gaius' notes on healing drafts and antidotes. Over the centuries, translations had painstakingly been written in on separate pages, both in middle English and modern English. Myrddin preferred to read the originals, the old English flowing easily through his brain. The sight of his old guardian's handwriting was comforting, and he could almost imagine the old man's voice in his ear. Although Gaius was more likely to be berating him about irresponsible uses of magic, or nagging him to do chores. He missed Gaius.

All too soon they arrived at Hogwarts, and Myrddin had to slide neatly back into his role. He was often frustrated by the _unfairness _of it all. Why should he have to live a double life the second time around? The Slytherin Prince, they called him, but at least this time he wasn't alone. He had cajoled most of the other Slytherins into working for him and his agenda right under the noses of Malfoy and the Carrows. Even the headmaster's son, Draco, had eventually given in, and agreed to follow him.

He straightened his robes and dusted off the silver edges, making his way to the platform. The crowd parted in front of him, and he was able to climb into a carriage with his Slytherin friends.

"There you are, Myrddin!" said Draco. "We were almost worried."

The other boys exchanged a smirk. They all knew just how well Myrddin could 'look after' himself.

"I saw some first years earlier," said Theodore Nott. "Poor little buggers, they looked terrified. Were we that small when we were first years?"

"Probably," said Myrddin.

"Myrddin still _is_ small," teased Draco, and Myrddin chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"I won't argue that," he smiled. "Mum used to tell me there was nothing quite so knobbly as my knees."

"Never mind your knees, you've yet to grow into those ears of yours."

"I never will," he grumbled truthfully. If the past twelve hundred years were any indication, he would be stuck with them for the rest of his his new life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope you all had a lovely Christmas/New Year! Sorry you had to wait a bit for this chapter, but things have just been so hectic!**

**If you read this closely, you may be able to spot a few spanners that I've just thrown into the works…**

**Chapter 8**

The line of first years was even thinner than usual, and many were quivering in fear as they were led up to stand before the main table. Myrddin sighed, fiddling angrily with his wand. The population of the school was in steady decline, the slaughter of 'mudbloods' taking it's toll. Recently his mentor had also taken to singling out blood-traitors. At the Gryffindor table he could see the puffy red faces of the four youngest Weasleys, over the summer both their parents had been taken for 'questioning'. He gripped his wand even tighter, barely managing to stop his eyes from spilling over gold in his anger. He remembered watching the frail form of Arthur Weasleys body go limp as the light left his blue eyes. Voldemort had made him watch as part of his 'education' and he itched for the chance to show the bastard what he was _really _up against.

He jumped as golden sparks erupted around him, and shook his head to clear it, focusing on the sorting. The little boy on the stool grinned as he was sorted into Slytherin. He caught a flash of bright blue eyes before the boy settled amongst the other first years. There were quite a few new Slytherins this year, and he studied them as the sorting finished and the feast began. There was a pair of twin girls who were shivering where they sat, looking around them with terrified eyes. The only other girl, a thickset child with a permanent scowl was clearly intimidating them. All the others were boys, apparently pure bloods if their demeanour was anything to go by. Myrddin could tell just by looking, they sat at the Slytherin table as if they owned it. That would have to be fixed. The only exception he could see was the dark-haired lad he had watched being sorted earlier, looking around curiously with bright, inquisitive eyes.

Lucius Malfoy was speaking, and he listened to the usual start of term dribble with disdain. However this year, something caught his ear…

"I would like to introduce you to our new Dark Art's teacher and head of Slytherin, Professor Cathias, since our previous instructor has moved on to higher things…"

Myrddin scowled again. He recognised the man from the death eater meetings, Cathias was one of those closest to his mentor, one who he almost trusted. He would have disliked the man on that merit alone, but he was always looking at Myrddin suspiciously, like he suspected something… it would be harder to keep the operations running as normal with _him_ breathing down their necks. The benefit of having a Carrow as their head of house was that they noticed nothing…

Eventually the headmaster dismissed them, and he could begin his work. He made a beeline towards the first years, and beckoned for them to following. They eyed the silver edges to his robes and obeyed hurriedly. Some were tripping over each other in their eagerness to be the first in line. He didn't say a word to them until they were safely in the dungeons where they could not be overheard.

"We will be arriving in the common room soon," he told them. "And shown to your dormitories for the night. Before that happens, though, we will have to be have a little talk…"

He stopped in front of the wall that was the entrance to the common room.

"This is the entrance to the dormitories. To enter you need a password, which changes every two weeks. If you forget it… well, you'll just have to wait for someone who remembers. _Parseltongue_."

The first years gasped as the wall slid back, stepping tentatively into the green glow of the common room. He smiled at the memory he had of building this place, side by side with Salazar. He could remember his friend's green eyes shining as he sketched out the plans, and his dark hair sticking up in all directions when Merlin had gently woken him in the morning, fast asleep on top of his notes. He had looked so much like his own son, though of course Salazar hadn't known that. The boy was excitable enough without being told that he was the great-grandson of Emrys. He had often wondered if he was doing the wrong thing, keeping that knowledge from his grand children's children, but when he thought how the line ended… lets just say he was grateful Tom Marvolo Riddle had no idea of his true heritage.

There were a few older students still lounging around on the sofas and chairs, but they got up to leave as he entered, bowing respectfully to him. A few had been talking to Draco, and the blonde boy nodded to him before running up to their dormitory. He would give his report later. Myrddin turned back to the first-years.

"Welcome to Slytherin," he said. "In a moment I shall direct you to where you're going to sleep, but first I have a few things to say."

He looked down at them carefully before continuing.

"Slytherin is Hogwarts' most ancient and noble house, and therefore we must behave as such. We are not the house of dark wizards," he said sternly, looking over to the boys. "Nor are we the house of bullies. We do have _some_ liberties, compared to the rest of the student body, but it is up to us to use them responsibly."

Now he had their attention, the first years were all staring at him open-mouthed. He couldn't be sure what their parents had told them about Slytherin, but it probably wasn't this.

"Some of you here will already know who I am," he said, gesturing to the silver edges on his robes. "And I expect you to fill in those who aren't so informed. But hear this, if I ever get word that any of you have conducted yourself without proper decorum you _will _have to face me. And believe me, I will know. Here in Slytherin we have a part to play. To the others we are cold, aloof, and above them. That is how we choose to appear, because it is safest for everybody. We rule the school, and therefore it is our duty to help the others, no matter what house they are in. Does that make sense?"

"No," sneered one of the braver boys. "If we're in charge, why can't we just ignore them? Why should we help?"

Myrddin turned his blue eyes onto the boy, and he fell silent.

"That," he said quietly, anger seeping into his tone. "Was the attitude I found when I started the school Slytherin house had turned their back on those who were suffering, and the whole school was paying the price."

He sighed. "I will talk to you some more about it in the morning, but now you must be tired. First, though…" he pointed to the thickset girl. "What is your name?"

"Amanda Bulstrode,"she announced proudly, and Myrddin nodded in recognition.

"You're sister is in my year, I believe. I will be telling her of your actions tonight. It took her a few years to grow out of _her _tendency to bully others. I hope you will learn faster than she did."

The girl looked at her feet and Myrddin turned to the other two. "And your names?"

"Marion Flanders," said one twin. "And my sister, Jayne."

He nodded before studying the boys. He realised he knew most of their fathers.

"Travers," he guessed. "Macnair, Corbett, and Lott?"

They nodded in agreement, and he studied the last boy, the one who had caught his attention earlier.

"I don't recognise you," he said. "What is your name?"

"D'Makken," he said. "Modrot D'Makken."

"Ah, you are French?"

"Sort of," he admitted. "My father moved the family here from Brittany when I was a baby. I don't speak any French."

"Well, I welcome you to Hogwarts. The dormitories are down that corridor there. Girls to the left, and boys to the right. It is time you went to bed now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" they chorused, and hurried away, relieved at the prospect of sleep. Myrddin rubbed his face, sleep seemed like a very good idea to him too.

The others were already there when he walked into the dormitory, and grinned at him.

"How were the firsties?" asked Zabini. "Did they look like they'd be any trouble?"

"No more than usual," he said. "Any news from the others, Draco?"

"Patty Dew is being forced into an arranged marriage with Llewellyn Selwyn," he said. "And Paul Wilkins was beaten up by his father again. I'm sure their's more, but that's all I have for now, I haven't managed to talk to the other houses yet."

Myrddin groaned, flopping down onto the bed.

"I thought we'd dealt with that," he moaned. "Alright, we'll have to start talking to his friends, try to keep him out of his own house as much as possible. I'll contact the Dew's in a few days. If I remember rightly, Llewellyn is at least twenty years older than Patty…"

In the Ravenclaw dormitories, Morrigan was unpacking her trunk for the new school year. She smirked as she found the golden seal, and cradled it in her hands. It had been almost impossible to obtain, especially right under her parent's noses, but she knew it would do the job.

It was time to wake up her _dear_ half-brother…


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry it's been a while. Life, you know.**

**Have any of you lot seen Les Mis yet? I saw it on Friday and it was AMAZING. I cried all the way through it.**

**Chapter 9**

Teachers, Morrigan had decided, could be extremely blind and stupid.

Every single Hogwarts student knew that Myrddin and his Slytherin subjects were blatantly undermining the death eater's authority in the school. They rescued students from the dungeons, tried to prevent them from incurring the Carrows wrath, and had even gone so far as to occasionally hide students in the Slytherin dormitories.

It was all very odd. Myrddin was supposed to be the 'Dark Prince' or something, and yet he acted nothing like Morrigan had expected him to. But then again, he was _Merlin_…

She had been a fool to even imagine that Merlin would be swayed into joining the dark side. He just wasn't the type.

"_But you are…" _whispered Morgana in her head. "_You could be so much more with the Dark Lord by your side. Even Emrys would be powerless to stop us."_

Morrigan shook her head, trying to chase the witch away from her consciousness. Most of the time Morgana slept in the back of her mind, for which she was grateful. She shivered as she remembered the time when Morgana had been fully awake…

_He turned on his heel and walked away. Morrigan collapsed back into the alcove, his words ringing through her mind…_

_Do what you think is right…_

_And as Morgana Pendragon adjusted to her new body, she thought about the black-haired, blue eyed boy._

_Well, Emrys, she thought. Here we are again, on opposite sides of a war. Except this time, it's you who's on the wrong side…_

_Morrigan gasped as the alien presence flooded into her mind. She pushed Morgana away, struggling to stay in control. Morgana's thoughts were full of blood lust and revenge, and the longing to strike Merlin down where he stood…_

_No! protested Morrigan. His name is Myrddin! He's a nice boy!_

_He is a thorn in my side, purred Morgana. He deserves to die._

_No!_

_Morrigan staggered to her feet and set off running down the corridor, the opposite direction to where Myrddin had gone. She passed an older Ravenclaw as she ran, and grasped his elbow._

"_There's a girl in dungeon four," she whispered. They nodded and went on their way. Morrigan continued on the path to the Ravenclaw tower, but turned away at the last minute, ducking into an empty classroom. She sank into a chair, and let the memories take her over…_

_All the deaths. The hatred. The wars. And so Morrigan pushed Morgana away, kept her at an arm's length._

XXX

Arthur was running again. He had almost been caught releasing a first year from the dungeons, and had barely been able to get her to safety before escaping himself. This time the chase had led him deep into the castle, into an area he had never explored before. He slowed down, trying to catch his breath.

He was standing in a long corridor. It was bare, and the thick dust showed that it had been out of use for some time. But there were several pairs of footprints in the dust. He wasn't the first to come down here…

He carried on forwards cautiously. He appeared to have shaken off his pursuers, but you could never be sure with Death Eaters.

"Hello."

He jumped. There was a portrait on the wall looking at him in curiosity.

"H-Hi."

"What are you doing down here?" asked the man seriously, but Arthur could have sworn there was a twinkling of mirth in his eyes. "This area is out of bounds."

Arthur shrugged. The man seemed somewhat familiar. He had blonde hair and skin that had obviously been tanned from being outside. He wore chain mail and had a sword at his side.

The man in the portrait appeared to be giving him a similar appraisal.

"Do I know you?" he asked eventually. "You seem somewhat familiar."

"Likewise."

"What's your name?"

"Arthur," he told him. "Arthur Brown."

The man smiled.

"Good name, Arthur," he said, barely concealing a grin. "How old are you, Arthur?"

"I'm fourteen."

"I see. So you're about the same age as Mer- I mean- Myrddin, then?"

"You know Myrddin Riddle?"

"Oh yes. He visits me here quite often. He's a good boy."

"Right… I suppose he is, when he isn't being insufferable. Riddle by name, riddle by nature."

The man in the portrait frowned, considering him again.

"Surely not…" he murmured. "No no no…"

He stared with a pained expression for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Oh this is _fantastic_!" he laughed. "Brilliant! And Myrddin has no idea…"

He chuckled again at Arthur's bewildered face.

"I'd best be going…" said Arthur nervously.

"Oh alright, on your way," smiled the man. "But do me a favour. Tell Myrddin… tell him that the Dragon has returned to it's nest and is ready to fly again."

"Huh?"

"Just tell him," grinned the man in the portrait. "He'll figure it out. Eventually."

XXX

"Myrddin!"

Myrddin looked up from his dinner to see Modrot bounding towards him, bright-eyed and eager. He slid into the seat next to him. He was so little he could only just reach his food.

"Evening," smiled Myrddin, ruffling Modrot's hair fondly. The boy scowled and pushed him away. "How are you?"

"Got a letter from father today," he announced proudly. "He got a big bonus at work last week, and said that we might be able to go to Egypt this summer to see the tombs!"

"Wow! That sounds like fun."

"Uh huh," agreed Modrot. "I've always wanted to go to the tombs. My mother went when she was a little girl, and she used to tell me all about them before… you know, before she died."

"How did she die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Backfiring charm," he muttered. "I was seven."

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay. It's just me and father at home now."

There was the sound of somebody clearing their throat, and they turned to see Arthur Brown watching them sheepishly.

"Yes?" asked Myrddin. "What do you want?"

"Um…" began Arthur uncertainly. "Somebody wanted me to tell you that the - the Dragon has returned to it's nest and is ready to fly again."

"_What?_"

Arthur shrugged.

"That's just what he said."

"And who _was _this?"

"I dunno, mate. Some dude in a painting."

And with that he left. Myrddin rolled his eyes, he knew _exactly_ which painting Arthur was talking about. Obviously the arrogant prat had nothing better to do than sending him riddles, he was going to _kill_ Arthur Pendragon…

He froze, considering the other boy's words, and turned to watch him at the Gryffindor table, his golden head clearly distinguishable.

But no, it couldn't be…


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Hi!"

Myrddin looked up from his morning _Prophet _to observe the boy grinning eagerly at him.

"Good morning, Modrot," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Is it true your name means 'Merlin'?"

Myrddin did a double take. No-one had asked him _that_ before. He himself had considered the irony of it many times.

"You know, I think it _does_," he said. "It's a Welsh name."

"I like names," grinned Modrot. "Your friend Draco, his name means 'Dragon', but it's _also_ a constellation. I mean, how cool is that?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"You know _his _name?"

Myrddin nodded, knowing who Modrot was referring to.

"It means _flight of death_ in French. It's very strange. Did he make it up himself?"

"Don't tell anybody," whispered Myrddin. "But his real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Riddle," chuckled Modrot. "Speaks for itself, doesn't it? Tom, that means twin. Marvolo… do you know, I've never heard that one before? It's probably a family name."

"I think so…" said Myrddin, wanting to move away from Marvolo. "What does your name mean, Modrot?"

"I'm not sure about Modrot itself," confessed the boy. "But the English version of the name means 'brave'."

"Oh really? What's the English version?"

The bell rang for the first lesson, and everyone began to leave. Modrot grinned, and Myrddin could tell it was a question he loved being asked.

"Mordred," he said eagerly. "Isn't that the _coolest thing_?"

And with that he scampered off, leaving Myrddin staring open-mouthed behind him.

_Mordred…_

Even now, the name sent a shiver down his spine. If it was the same Mordred, _his _Mordred… but he couldn't know, or he would have already tried to kill him. That, he was certain of.

Myrddin had had enough. It was time to wake Arthur.

XXX

"Mr Brown, a word if you will."

Arthur cringed as he was called back by the Slytherin, the silver snakes gleaming on his robes. Ron shot him a pitying look, before vanishing into the classroom.

"May I help you?"

"Walk with me," Myrddin commanded. Arthur shrugged, but followed. For some strange reason, he could not bring himself to fear Myrddin.

"I am _supposed_ to be in Dark Arts…"

"I'll cover for you," said Myrddin dismissively. "I'll tell them I was torturing you in the dungeons or something."

"Okay," said Arthur nervously. "_Are _you going to torture me in the dungeons?"

Myrddin laughed, sending shivers up Arthur's spine.

"Hopefully it will not come to that," he smiled. "I only wish to speak to you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Where are you from, Arthur?"

"Worcestershire," he answered. "We live in a tiny muggle village."

"I see. Have you any brothers… sisters?"

"No. My parents were told they couldn't have children."

"But…"

"Yes, I know, I'm here anyway. 'Their miracle child' they called me."

"Sometimes I wonder if it is worth bringing children into this world of darkness."

"My dad always said: when there's life, there's hope."

"I suppose so. This way."

"Where are we going?"

"The Room of Requirement," announced Myrddin.

"The what?"

The Slytherin came to a stop in front of a tapestry depicting a scene of old. A very daft young man was trying to teach trolls to dance ballet. Arthur watched, nonplussed as Myrddin paced back and forth three times, and a door appeared.

"Inside," said Myrddin tersely, looking around for any prying eyes. Arthur obeyed quickly.

"Wow."

They had stepped into a spacious, well lit stone room. There were weapons lining the walls, swords, bows, axes, and huge shelves were filled with books.

"Catch!"

Suddenly there was a sword flying towards him. Arthur panicked, but his body responded automatically, snatching the hilt out of midair.

"What are you doing?"

But Myrddin wasn't listening, he was swinging another sword in his hand, seemingly testing its length. He held out his other hand, and his eyes flashed gold. To his dismay Arthur watched his wand fly into Myrddin's waiting fist. The Slytherin slid it into his pocket.

"Now we can begin."

Without warning he attacked the blonde, swinging his sword, only to be met with Arthur's own.

"_What are you doing_?" he screamed. Myrddin just grinned evilly.

"Nobody can hear you!" he taunted. "No need to be an ass about it."

"I am _not_ an ass!"

"No, you're right, you're a royal one."

"Well… you're a… a… a clot pole!" shouted Arthur, blocking another blow.

"That's _my_ word!"

"Dollop head!"

"Also mine… honestly Arthur, can't you come up with something better?"

"Shut _up _Merlin!"

Arthur froze and fell to the floor as he realised what he'd just said. With a gasp it all came flooding back. His father, Camelot, and his best friend, Merlin Ambrosius…

"Merlin?" he whispered, looking up at Myrddin. "Is that really you?"

Myrddin nodded

"Welcome back, Arthur Pendragon."

It was too much, the memories were overwhelming him. With a small sigh, his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.

XXX

"Gwen?"

Gwendoline looked round to see Susan looking at her worriedly.

"Yes?"

"Can you see Arthur anywhere?" she whispered. Gwen's eyes hovered over the Gryffindor table.

"No," she whispered back. "I haven't seen him all day. I'm sure he's alright."

Susan bit her lip anxiously.

"What if _they've_ got him?"

XXX

Myrddin had seen the tell-tale signs of his friend's collapse, and had managed to catch his head before it hit the ground. After a quick examination he had determined that Arthur was merely sleeping, and sat cross legged on the floor waiting for him to wake.

Time was a tricky thing in the Room, but it he could tell it was well into the night when Arthur finally began to stir. He groaned, putting a hand on his temples.

"Merlin?" he asked dazedly. "Myrddin?"

"Here," said Myrddin gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was trampled by a hippogriff. How… I… how did we get _here_? We were in Camelot. I died, then I was a baby. I… _what_?"

Myrddin laughed at the other boy's confusion.

"We were reincarnated," he said. "It's complicated."

"More like disorientating."

"That too."

"I've got a whole other life in my head…"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess it's quite distracting."

"Why are you apologising? It's not your fault. You always were an idiot, _Merlin_."

"Myrddin," he corrected.

"Whatever," said Arthur dismissively. "The gods have been kind to us. A whole new life…"

"Yes. So, what shall we do with it?"

"That's obvious," grinned Arthur. "We need to take down the evil sorcerer, just like the old days."

"It was a rhetorical question, _clot pole_."

"Don't be such an idiot."


End file.
